NYC's Best New Restaurants of 2015

As 2015 winds down, we are reminded of the rules—or rather, lack thereof—that govern New York City’s maddening restaurant cycle. Because as much as we allege to embrace novelty, we are just as swift to bring down the hammer of judgment. Case in point: the meteoric rise of Tex-Mex and all its refried glory, best exemplified by newcomer Javelina. Initially hailed as the great Yellow Cheese Hope, the restaurant was promptly slammed by the Times as a phony—a classic crash and burn scenario for the genre at large.

But even if we’re unforgiving of certain fads, we’re more than willing to revive others. Rebelle (it’s all in the name, folks) was given the nod for re-writing the script on what it means to be a modern French restaurant. The powerhouse Major Food Group had a rare miss with Santina, but recovered with Sadelle’s, an appetizing King Pin rivaling the majesty of Russ and Daughters. Other all-stars already on the scene pivoted too. David Chang rolled out his Chick-fil-A-inspired Fuku project, giving momentum to a fried chicken craze; Brooks Headley at Superiority Burger subverted the veggie patty stigma; while Sun Noodle Company unveiled Ramen Lab, a world-class slurp shop and living-and-breathing museum. To bring it all together, we present New York’s best new restaurants of 2015.

El Cortez

If you’re a studious barfly, then you know to follow the booze-soaked tracks of Stephen Tanner and Chris Young, masterminds behind Williamsburg’s tiki-themed dive, The Commodore, and its recent follow-up, El Cortez, in Bushwick. Save for a wooden totem pole sunk into the facade, its presence on a seemingly deserted street is completely unassuming, just like the food—a winning formula for the duo. Without hewing to any one drunk-food tradition, El Cortez grazes them all: an updated Polynesian drink program (yes, slushies!); a glorious tinfoil-wrapped Mission-style burrito to finally brag about to your West Coast friends; home-style ground-beef taco salads and beautifully structured chimichangas; and chicken sliders skewered on a kebab stick, for good measure. When you're serving stellar versions of lowbrow foods that chefs fiend for, who gives a f*ck about a consistent vision? The key, after all, to a worthy gastro-dive is balance of salt and ice-cold drinks. El Cortez understands this truth on a fundamental level—that, and knowing The Commodore’s burger cameo on the menu will be appreciated by all.—Justin Bolois

Fuku and Fuku+

Chick-fil-A is one of the best new restaurants to hit NYC in 2015, but we don't need to tell you about the unstoppable Polynesian-sauce wave that crashed through midtown. The year's bigger surprise was David Chang's sudden pivot into the fast-food space with a spicy chicken sandwich that launched a thousand thinkpieces. Now that the dust has settled on the food-media feeding frenzy, we can finally look at Fuku with clear eyes: The wedge fries remain #problematic, the expanded menu at Fuku+ is a grab-bag of hits (bite-size nuggets with tangy green dipping sauce) and misses (a pedestrian Juicy Lucy), but the flagship sandwich—built around a flattened, boneless thigh that erupts juices from its fire-red shell—is an instant classic that'll have us fiendishly racking up Caviar delivery fees well into 2016 and beyond. Like the Martin's potato roll that clings to the craggy edges, New Yorkers should simply accept that Chang's chicken cannot be contained.—Chris Schonberger

Order this: Fuku Spicy Chicken Sandwich, Fuku bites, Fuku Fingers

Timna

New York City’s lack of Israeli food is embarrassing. Sure, we’ve got Einat Admony and a few falafel-slinging casual spots, but to most New Yorkers, Jewish cuisine is more likely to mean double-decker pastrami sandwiches or kosher Chinese. Timna’s chef Nir Mesika, who’s served time in high-end Tel Aviv restaurants as well as Brooklyn’s Zizi Limona, is here to change that. In a brick-lined cavern on St. Marks, he’s taking on classic Israeli dishes like shakshuka and sabich, and deconstructing them with the same care other chefs have given to cuisines from, Mexican to Middle American. His true genius comes through in the sauces, distilling ingredients down to their essence, then playing them off one another to keep things interesting. The lamb saddle, for example, gets a counterpoint from bright dabs of green pea puree and an umami-intense black garlic sauce, then a citric bump from powdered lemon. Flavors are familiar enough in a sort-of Mediterranean way, but Mesika’s skill is what will finally bring Israeli cuisine into the NYC spotlight.—Regan Hofmann

Order this: Bedouin octopus, Mediterranean sashimi, lamb saddle.

Babu Ji

While there's no shortage of haute-Indian temples sticking to their buttoned-up values or kati-roll joints vying to be the Chipotle of the future, New York's Indian restaurants have rarely succeeded in meeting the dining zeitgeist head on. Alphabet City's perpetually packed Babu Ji has made short work of that stereotype, transforming curry night into something better suited for a Tinder date than your next "Netflix and chill" session. Amid Bollywood flicks projected on the wall and a help-yourself fridge stocked with serious craft beer, chef Jessi Singh unlocks the swag of the subcontinental playbook with cheeky updates like lobster-spiked aloo tikki (potato croquettes) and Colonel Tso's Cauliflower, an Instagram-ready appetizer that's like gobi manchurian by way of Panda Express (in the best way possible). The likes of pork-belly vindaloos and beetroot paneer aren't unheard of in cities like London and Melbourne (where Babu Ji's predecessor originated), but New York needed a naan-slinging nonconformist to shake it out of its holding pattern.—Chris Schonberger

Ramen Lab

In a city packed with genre-bending slurp shops like Momofuku and Ivan Ramen, Ramen Lab strikes a rare balance: not only does its 10-seat, standing-only counter and super-focused menu appeal to finicky purists, but its monthly rotation of players—Luca Catalfamo from Milan, Shigetoshi Nakamura from Tokyo—also rightfully casts the story of ramen as a global phenomenon with an ever-expanding reach. For this enlightenment, we can thank noodle purveyor Sun Noodle Company, which began tinkering with a "ramen lab" research and development test kitchen in their New Jersey facility two years ago. That chef Nakamura's famed shio ramen—deemed bucket-list worthy by Ivan Orkin himself—was only available for the first month is besides the point; the motivation here is not self-preservation, but exploration. That might mean diving into regional specialities like the pork-studded jiro ramen, a favorite amongst Tokyo’s university students, or a chile-tare mazemen adorned with basil leaves. As both an homage to the past and emblem of what’s to come, Sun Noodle’s outpost is the ultimate educational platform for noodle enthusiasts. That’s certainly a tall task—and maybe one only fit for the high-minded pursuits of Ramen Lab.—Justin Bolois

Order this: Monthly special, Orion beer

Superiority Burger

What former Del Posto pastry wizard Brooks Headley and team have accomplished is something akin to cold fusion: The utterly delicious burger that isn’t made of meat, which (among those in the know, carnivore or not) provokes cravings for it, and it alone. A single bite yields a savory, sweet, salty blast of flavor not of a burger, but of something distinctly better. The namesake’s menu companions are far from afterthoughts: the Yuba Philadelphia is a confusing endorphin rush of joy; broccoli salad lends once staid, overdone greenery nearly hallucinogenic properties; those sorbet finishers are, lacking better poetry, fucking exquisite. Throw in a soundtrack of Bad Brains and Misfits, and Superiority’s hilariously cozy, tray-equipped booths to boot, and you have something revelatory. There’s nothing new under the sun, but there’s always a better way to live under it, and as far as a cheap, decent meals go—meat-eater, or not—Superiority Burger has given us an important, utterly lovable innovation in doing so.—Foster Kamer

Kang Ho Dong Baekjong

It’s a typical question for first-timers: Why do cooks and culinary Illuminati visit Baekjong in droves, when there are so many Korean BBQ joints on the same street? It’s a chain! They have one in L.A.! For starters, at this former Momofuku chef-helmed flagship, there’s the black-tar-heroin quality meat, carefully shopped and selected. There's the mosaic of banchan waiting for you to snack on, more flavorful and fresher than any version you’ll find elsewhere. There are the must-order dishes like pitch-perfect dumplings and a “lunchbox” of tableside-shaken fried rice. But there's also the blaring, insane K-Pop and countless birthday celebrations that involve the restaurant-wide blasting of “Gangnam Style,” all the more fun when paired with unceremonious boozing on soju and Hite. Baekjong is the best iteration of K-BBQ you’re going to find in this city, the kind of party that any reasonably qualified cardiologist, audiologist, or nutritionist should absolutely object to. Maybe that’s why they go.—Foster Kamer

Order this: Beef combo, pork combo, the "lunch box," fried dumplings.

Wildair

Wildair is the type of place that might elicit eye rolls from been-there-ate-that New York diners: Another pseudo-bistro with natural wines and a vaguely Scandinavian aesthetic? But we’re willing to admit when we’re wrong. Cue Wildair, the casual offshoot of critical darling Contra next door, is the kind of place we want to linger in, gently buzzed on Pet-Nat and bar food that’s ambitious without trying too hard, thanks to the deft touch of co-chefs-owners Fabian Von Hauske Valtierra and Jeremiah Stone. Take, for example, the little gem lettuces, more satisfying than any salad has a right to be, thanks to a dressing made from lettuce leaves caramelized in butter and pureed with pistachios; or the much-hyped potato dauphin draped with velvet-soft uni, a sort of ritzy take on latkes with sour cream. And then there’s the hulking pork Milanese, coated in crumbs made from the restaurant’s excellent housemade bread. Wildair reads like something we’ve seen before, but it feels—and tastes—like something new entirely.—Jamie Feldmar

Ganso Yaki

Journalist, potter, and Japanese food expert Harris Salat made a wise move this year in officially teaming up with his cookbook writing partner, Tadashi Ono, on a growing empire of restaurants operating under than Ganso banner. Together, the two not only improved their three-year-old ramen shop, but also opened a modern izakaya blocks from the Barclays Center. Christened Yaki, the restaurant flaunts Ono’s mastery in Japanese soul food—the fried, grilled, slathered-in-Kewpie style of cooking that we're all obsessed with. As the name (yaki) suggests, dishes grilled over imported white charcoal, including tsukune (chicken meatballs) and a soy sauce-glazed hamachi collar, are highlights, as well as okonomiyaki—the great Osaka cabbage and pork belly pancake that is often bastardized on St. Marks. But Ono’s greatest achievement is the excellent tempura selections, accompanied by a dashi-soy sauce mix. Even in a year where high-end tempura counter Tempura Matsui has brought attention to the art of Japanese frying, it’s cool to see an elevated, yet still affordable, approach out in Brooklyn.—Matt Rodbard

Harry & Ida's Meat and Supply Co

It looks like New York's new-school deli evolution has finally reached its gonzo conclusion with Harry & Ida's Meat and Supply Co, a tribute to co-owners Will and Julie Horowitz's Hungarian grandparents, who operated a delicatessen in Harlem. But make no mistake—this place is not your Mile End 2.0. Horowitz studied primitive living systems before he enrolled in culinary school, and his enthusiasm for preservation practices—pickling, dehydrating, and smoking—has turned the provisions counter into a culinary swiss army knife: part smokehouse, part butcher shop, part creamery, part deli. (Fittingly, that sort of resourcefulness earned it an Alice Waters IG co-sign.) For what it is, Harry & Ida's taps into a rare form of chef nerdery, making it a playground to experiment with smoked butters, shiitake mushroom stem salt, and 80 lb. buckets of live eels that are turned into pates or smoked for sandwiches. The Pop's pastrami sandwich—a rising star in a field of storied heavyweights—boasts marbled deckle, buttermilk fermented english cucumbers, toasted rye berries and caraway seeds, sprigs of dill, and a mild Meyer lemon mustard. The meal is a true show-stopper, but to ignore all the background noise taking place inside the kitchen is to lose sight of its noble—if not zany—ambitions.—Justin Bolois

Order this: Pops Pastrami, bluefish, smoked eel, hot ham

Rebelle

Did New York need another big box restaurant on the Bowery, let alone one serving a new spin on French cuisine, as spun by an American? Of course not. Which makes Rebelle’s accomplishments all the more noteworthy: Classic French cuisine crafted with utterly modern technique, without the showboating one might associate with such a thing. Like Daniel Eddy’s roast chicken, elevated from the humble cast iron presentation to a single, exquisite strip. Then there’s Eben Klemm’s pousse café, a triumphant return for what’s basically the highbrow Long Island Iced Tea, made with nothing more than a boozy combination of milk punch, chartreuse, and overproof rum. And no disrespect to Camus, but the clafoutis for two is a joyous retort to any of those great French existentialists—they wouldn’t be wrong to blast “La Marseillaise” every time they plate it, so unapologetically French is it. Some things don’t require improvement. Some things, like another French restaurant on the Bowery, aren’t required at all. Yet so goes Rebelle, ever leaning into their name: A giant, petulant middle finger to anyone who finds an excess of Francocentric joy anything but an utterly wonderful thing. Viva.—Foster Kamer

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In the dark ages of museum dining, culture vultures had to rely on chilled sandwiches and machine cappuccinos to fuel their slog through the French Impressionists wing. But it's a testament to New York's current food obsession—which drives people to gush about plates of arctic char and lamb saddle like they're new Ed Ruscha paintings—that museum restaurants can now be just as much of a draw as the exhibits themselves. At the reopened Whitney, Danny Meyer has created the most impressive synergy between museum and restaurant that we've seen to date: a gorgeous glass box that serves as a fitting showcase for Michael Anthony's subtle, Japanese-inspired take on American cooking. The dishes evolve with the seasons—a summer composition of fluke kissed with sorrel giving way to heartier delicata squash with chorizo in winter—but the through-line that connects it all is Anthony's knack for balance and clean flavors. Best of all, you don't need to be a gastronomic scholar to appreciate what's on the plate. The most appealing dishes are the simplest, from a salad of fried and roasted chicken with crunchy kale and radicchio, to a cookies-and-milk platter that's the perfect antidote to the blowhard talking about pointillism at the next table.—Chris Schonberger

Her Name Is Han

Manhattan’s 32nd Street Koreatown stretch is in a state of great flux, with longtime barbecue grills and seolleongtang slingers being replaced by…yet another Face Shop? Thankfully, new inductees like Her Name is Han have made up for landlords’ real estate cash grabs. Their kalbi jjim is excellent—a stew of short ribs braised in soy sauce and orchard fruits that perfume the table. Mandu (dumplings) and bossam (slow-boiled pork belly) are the kind of Korean dishes that are often botched at the massive barbecue halls, but here are handled with a delicate touch—all the more fitting when you realize the restaurant's name references the spirit of a mother's home-cooking. The real highlight, however, is yangnyeom gejang, a messy plate of spicy, raw, marinated blue crabs that is otherwise impossible to find here. Once you break into them, the tender meat is both sweet and salty. You will want to suck it straight out of the shell—and we won't blame you for doing so.—Matt Rodbard

Sadelle's

For those not well-versed in the bloodsport that is New York City dining, Sadelle's might sound insufferable on paper: two-hour waits at 9am, Jewish appetizing platters reimagined as seafood towers for the 1%, and $17 breakfast sandwiches served by staffers rocking un-ironic Timberland boots. But sticker shock and Soho are old bedfellows, so skip the outrage and embrace the wonders at hand: a bagel brunch that's been fully optimized down to the seeds on the Everything 2.0 bagel (fennel and caraway to complement the usual suspects), and the hint of dill in the house-cured salmon (inspired by chef Rich Torrisi's training at Aquavit). From baker Melissa Weller's life-affirming chocolate-chip cookies, to the veal-packed pelmini on the new Eastern European-leaning dinner menu, Sadelle's is a reminder that even the classics need a reboot from time to time. And if it makes you feel better, remember that Barney Greengrass is expensive as f**k too, and the bagels aren't nearly as good.—Chris Schonberger

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